Teralose
by storiewriter
Summary: She's come back...to help and warn the newly established Redwall Abby...to survive its first attack. Chapter 6 up. PERMANENT HIATUS.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is mainly for the contest that one of the fanfic authors has sent around. But other than that, this is for the readers of fanfiction- I doubt that I will be able to finish this in time, though.

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The mouse sat on the grass by a small sapling, emerging from a few tangled roots of a once-great giant of a tree, dreaming. His mouth was set in a sad smile.

Neither young nor old, he had the powerful feel of a healer and leader about him. To prove one of these, a basket sat nearby, with a few herbs within it, used for healing matters.

He mumbled a bit, and dreamed on.

_He was in front of a large pair of gates, conversing with a pretty mousemaid, pleading with her._

_"Please, I need you! He needs you! Come back!"_

_Sadly, the mousemaid shook her head. "I may not unless I have a task to complete. And even then, I must not let anyone know my name."_

_"I know that you're 'dead', but he isn't where I am now! He felt as though it was his fault for………you know."_

_"He's not? I have watched him a few times, and seen him with others. I assumed…" She trailed off. "Here comes Boar. He came five seasons ago, come from a fight with the vermin."_

_The badger approached, a great sword still by his side. He glanced to the side and saw the mouse._

_"Who's he?"_

_Silently, the mousemaid the mousemaid whispered something in the badger lord's ear. He nodded._

_"I see. He wants you to come back?" Biting her lip, perhaps in hopefulness, she nodded her reply._

_"But you can only go back if……" His eyes lit up, and he turned towards the mouse at the Gates._

_"There is danger coming to both your home and a place a little northwest from here, where your friend is. You must get ready for war." The mouse nodded, a little shadow of fear passing through his eyes. He knew that war meant death._

_He turned back towards the mousemaid. "You must warn that place. I can give you few directions- you will appear in a place called Mossflower Forest. You must wander eastwards. Climb up hills at any opportunity. If you find a road, follow it," He pondered a little. "South. When you climb up the hills, look for a bit of red on the horizon. That is the place of you destiny._

_"You may not, unless, perhaps, about to die, tell any of your identity. Only one there will know it, and even then, he has almost forgotten." He paused, again. "You will need a name. Do you have any suggestions?" Boar directed this at the mouse, who thought a little, and then spoke._

_"An anagram-the mixing up of letters in a word-of her name. I am not sure what though. Or the name of a flower."_

_The mousemaid spoke up. "I would like to be called Teralose."_

_"Teralose it is. You will know of the danger, in a few days time, but must not tell the others at the place._

_"I send you upon your journey."_

_"Farewell, Brome." She smiled, and vanished._

_"Farewell, Rose." He whispered, and woke._

Brome looked around, and, picking up the basket, ran back, calling on the way.

"War is to come! We must soon fight for our lives, and for those of a place called Redwall Abbey!

""Prepare for war!"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Teralose woke to find herself sleeping on a ground covered in needles. Quickly, she stood, a green cape swirling around her.

She turned, examining her surroundings. A forest, not unlike some of which she had seen. Her clothes matched into the surroundings quite well-tunic of brown, cloak of a mottled green-brown.

She smiled gaily. Boar had done a good job. Complete with this set of clothing, was a small, undecorated save the hilt-stone, which was red.

Her mind returned to the present. Now she had to get to this place, the one that looked red. He had said to wander south if she found a path, and so she would. But right now, there was no path, and she had to still wander-east.

She looked up into the sky, trying to judge the suns' path. Unfortunately, she didn't know if it was morning or late afternoon.

So instead, she turned around slowly, taking deep breaths as much as possible. Once, she stopped, sniffing one more time to make sure that it was what she thought it was.

She smelled the ocean in that vague direction. The ocean, of course, was westward. So she turned around in the opposite direction, and started to walk.

She moved as quietly as she could, but every now and then, a twig underpaw would snap with surprising loudness. Every time she would cringe and grimace, and look around hastily to see if anybeast had heard.

She started to hum under her breath, and then, suddenly, a song, short as it was, burst out of her chest loudly.

"Through the forest,

Over the hills,

Though not as far,

As the ocean.

My home,

There lies,

Within the willows,

Oh why, oh _why_ did I leave?"

Rose paused, listening to the echoes ringing away, pleased that she still had her sweet voice. She continued walking, and then stopped.

The crunch of footpaws behind her took one last step, and stopped as well. Teralose wanted to bang her head against a tree. She shouldn't sing so loud, even if she was joyous to be alive, if only for a little while.

She continued walking, but silently. Her tracker obviously couldn't walk quietly, or chose not to. She quickened her pace, and her pursuer did so, making sure that she wouldn't get away from him/her.

Abruptly, she stopped, and whirled around, dagger withdrawn but concealed for the moment.

The beast was going too fast to stop in time, and so he skidded to a halt just in time to not knock the mousemaid over.

The beast was a not-so-young mouse, a little laughter in his eyes, a small grin on his face, barely showing.

"Hello, mate!"

Rose kept her paw on her dagger, just in case. "Hello back to you. May I ask who you are?"

"Certainly!" He stopped there, while Teralose waited for his reply. He started to speak again. "Are you goin' to ask my name or not?"

The mousemaid sighed. "What is your name?"

"That's the ticket!" he chuckled. "Well, you c'n call me the Prince of Mousethieves, Prince of Escape Artists, Prince of Getting Warriors out of Trouble, Prince of Pie Snatchers, Best Friend of Martin, so he says, or just plain Gonff."

Martin's name struck her, almost catching her breathless, but she made it just in time. "Just Gonff."

"Gonff it is, then! Now, what is your name?" He was a cheeky mouse, but Rose liked him all the while.

"Ro-Teralose." She stumbled over her name, remembering just in time not to say her nickname.

"Roteralose?"

"No, my tongue got tied up. My name is simply Teralose." Silently she cursed herself for her mistake.

"Tear-uh-lose, then? Much better than Roteralose in my opinion." He winked, but she saw that his eyes had suspicion within their depths. Her heat pounded, but she was determined to not let any fear show.

Gonff continued. "Where is a fine maiden like you going?"

"I'm not sure what the place is called, and all I know is that it is an Abbey, it is newly built, and is made of a sort of red rock."

"Ahh!" the Prince of Mousethieves looked jollier. "You mean the wonderful establishment of Redwall?"

"I guess."

"Of course you do! Well, then, I live there, or at least nearby, so I can take you there gladly." He lowered his voice a little. "Don't tell Columbine that I called you a fine maiden."

Rose was puzzled. "Why?"

He grinned. "Because she's my wife, of course!" Rose laughed, and suddenly, without any apparent reason, he slapped a paw to his forehead.

"Drats, I forgot! I need to get Columbine some huckleberry. She's making pies for the Dibbuns." He muttered something under his breath.

Rose percked up. "Huckleberry?"

Gonff nodded his affirmation.

"See some to the right, a little back."

Gonff was off and had whipped a small sack, with a small plaited rope tying it,-+ shut out of his tunic.

Minutes later, a cry of joy had appeared, along with the rustling of bushes. Rose ventured forwards, and saw Gonff plucking the small, but ripe, red berries off, a beaming smile on his face. Turning, he saw Rose.

"Thanks for the advice! Yes!"

"May I help?"

"Of course you can! Anything you want!"

_To see Martin again and have him recognize me,_ she thought. But out loud, she only laughed. "Are you sure about that? What if I asked you to eat a full panful of foxgloves?"

He paled in mock horror. "Of course not! That'd kill me! And I have a family to be with!"

Rose picked another huckleberry, and popped it in her mouth. "They're ripe. They're the right size. Your wife should be very happy with you for this."

Gonff peered into the sack, which was only half full, and the large bush almost empty. "We'll have to move onto another one."

Rose nodded her head in agreement, and they went on in the direction of Redwall, keeping keen eyes out for more of the berry bushes.

"Look! Raspberries!" She cried out, and leapt towards the thorny vines, laden with many matured berries. Gonff frowned.

"Why do we need raspberries?"

"Because, where I come from, raspberries are generally used with huckleberries in the pies, and are a good combination. Or at least they are to us."

Gonff nodded, if hesitantly, and they began picking them. "Where do you come from, anyway? Anywhere nearby?"

Rose paused, thinking quickly. Boar hadn't told her anything about not saying where she had lived, had he? "A place where there is almost always peace."

"Called….?"

"Noonvale."

"Nice name, Noonvale. I like it."

About a sixth of an hour later, they had gotten the sack full of red berries, both kinds.

Gonff sucked at his red-stained paws, and then plucked another raspberry. The sun was a bit lower in the sky to their right. "We should be going now, shouldn't we? In about two days, there's going to be our First Feast, which should be a huge affair. Just got back from finding out Martin's past, his father and everything. Nothing else."

Rose had been holding back a breath of dismay, until she heard what Gonff had just said. "Well," she stood up, brushing the juice off on her tunic. "I'm going now, and I would rather have your company, with reasons other than your conversation."

Gonff leapt up, and picked up the sack. "I'm going with you. My family is staying at Redwall to help with the feast, though Gonflet will most certainly be pinching treats off the table while others have their backs turned, the little rascal. Don't know how it got into his system. Most likely that hare taught him how." Deftly, he tied the rope around the neck of the bag, and held it in one paw, and took the lead. Teralose followed him, trotting a little.

A bit later, perhaps a third of an hour later, they were approaching a pair of huge gates, surrounded by looming red walls. Gonff walked up to them and pounded loudly, shouting.

"Come on! Let us in, for Mossflower's sake! Let us in, let us in!"

A mouse's head popped over the battlements above the gate. " 'Us'? Who is with you, Gonff, my friend?"

Gonff grinned widely. "A lovely young mouse. Perfect for you, Martin, don't you think?"

"Oh, never! She probably isn't lovely at all! And besides, I'll tell Columbine about what you just said."

"No! Don't! As for what _you_ said, I think you had better take a look at her." Martin searched around Gonff, and finally saw Rose.

A strange look passed over his face, and Rose inwardly cursed. She should have taken better care of what she looked like-Martin should still remember her.

"Her name is Teralose! Found her in the forest. She has good ears, too. Tried to sneak up on her, whirled around and saw me. Barely avoided knocking into her."

Martin muttered something, and then spoke louder. "Alright, I'll open the gates. Perhaps Teralose would stay for a while?"

Rose's voice carried on the wind up to Martin. "I'm planning on staying for as long as I can."

"Of course. Now, I need to get the otters-make sure that you aren't trying to get in and steal all of the food-not that Beau is helping any."

Gonff feigned disbelief, and shook his fist up at the first Warrior, who looked like he was holding back a bout of laughter. "Oohhhhhhhhhhh, you liddle cur! I shouldn't have helped you out of Kotir-I should've left you there to rot in that damp darkness!" He sobered. "But now it's too late-you're calling me a thief now, and scorning be in front of this young maid."

"Weren't you thrown in there with me because you were stealing food, bread and cheese, from Tsarminas food storage? And aren't you called the Prince of Mousethieves?"

"I was stealing from Tsarmina to help the Corim survive, and I gave myself that title."

"Then how do you explain the missing custard that Goodwife Stickle baked yesterday, and the dish and spoon inside your room, hidden in a secret compartment that only you and I know of?"

"Erm……. It was…..it was…..it was…..um, I don't know who it was! And I have never seen any dish and spoon inside of my secret place! On my honor as a Mousethief!"

"Fine. I'll open the gates." Martin glanced at Rose one more time, and disappeared from sight.

As soon as they were inside, and the gates closed behind them once more, Gonff winked at Martin.

"I really didn't see the dish and spoon inside of there; I had a blindfold on just in case!"

Martin left off a wild whoop, and chased the grinning Gonff, but hesitated once as he heard Teralose's laughter following them, sounding hauntingly familiar of a mousemaid that he once knew…..


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Martin entered the Gatehouse, as the rain started to pour outside. He had just accompanied Teralose to the Abbot, and showed her where she would stay for the time being.

Teralose…..what a strange maid, not to mention the name. It sounded familiar, as did her laugh. From a dream, long ago, a memory that he could not unearth….from when his father's sword had been stolen from him by the tyrant stoat, and forced into slavery.

He blinked. He hadn't known that before. Why was he now finding these facts out? Why not in the past, or in the future? Deep down, he understood that it had to do something with the mousemaid's arrival at this time.

The door, previously closed, banged open again, and in hurtled a wet Prince of Mousethieves. Martin grinned a little.

"How is it going, my Prince of Soaked Fur?"

"Fine, my sword-juggling warrior. Mate, I have a question. You seemed frozen up since you saw Teralose. Why?"

"I don't know." Martin shook his head. "She seems….familiar."

"Well, I haven't seen her face afore, have I? Not to mention the fact that she seems to come from a valley where there is always peace…..Her words exactly. Almost."

Martin looked at his friend curiously. "Did she say what this place was called?"

"Yes. Why you interested?"

"I don't know, really. It's….it's….a bit complicated." Martin shrugged his shoulders a little.

"She said it was called Noonvale." Seeing his friend freeze up, again, his voice became concerned. "Martin? Are you alright?"

"Noonvale…." He whispered, staring at one paw. The name….he remembered a bit more now. He had loved a maid who came from there, one called….he couldn't remember that.

"Do you know that place?"

"I was there, once." He whispered softly, looking up into the Mousethieves' eyes. "I was there. Once, long ago…" he trailed off.

"Hey, if this helps you…… She seemed to trip over her name a little when she told me. Seemed caught unawares. Said her name was Roteralose. Most likely the 'R-o' was the first part of another name. Perhaps Teralose isn't her real name. Perhaps she has a different identity."

"Did she tell you how to spell her name?"

The mouse beside him shook his head silently. "No. I can ask her, though. A time that it doesn't seem suspicious."

"Thanks, Gonff. I would appreciate it if you did."

"You're welcome. Besides, perhaps one day, you can help me with somethin'. Like finding _my_ family heritage. Somehow, I believe that my parents are still alive. Not left to rot in the dungeons of Kotir."

"I will. Shall we go and steal some early dinner?"

Gonff looked surprised. "You're offering to help me steal some dinner? How unusual!"

"Perhaps we can fit in a pie or two." Martin grinned. "They'll never think of you sneaking up onto the windowsills and stealing them in the rain."

"Shall we invite Miss Teralose?"

The warrior gazed off into the distance, where he had hidden his mighty sword, and had substituted it for another-well made, but not as good as the one with the star-metal. "Somehow I believe that she would enjoy that immensely. I'm not sure why, but I think that that is the truth."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Gonff had his hood up, underneath a windowsill where pies were cooling off, despite the rain going on. Swiftly, he grabbed a partially-cool one, put it on a plate, and snuck off. He was in charge of stealing most of the food, but Martin would, no doubt, help enlarge the amount that they had in the end.

He pushed open the front door to the Great Hall, exchanging the pie for a large sack on the way in, and went around the tables, already set up, to the kitchen.

The kitchen was filled with beasts of every size, including dibbuns who were constantly trying to steal the treats, like Gonff was.

Trying to look inconspicuous, he made his way around the busy room, pausing slightly at sweet tables. Nobeast, until later with momentary confusion, saw any of the treats go missing; a couple of strawberry scones, a large bowlful of trifle, quite a few pawfuls of fruit of every kind there, slices of cake, pieces of cherry pie, and many flasks of a diversity of drinks, plus more.

His pack a little on the bulging side, he made his way carefully out, to make sure that the soft treats were not too squashed. Silently, he made his way out of the Hall, and, when nobeast was looking grabbed the pie in one paw, and set off towards the orchard, pie in one paw, sack held in the other.

Martin, inside the Great Hall, saw Gonff come and go. He smiled slightly, and sighed. He made a promise. Time that he started to keep it.

As carts rolled by, he snatched things off of them when the drivers were looking somewhere else for a split second, slowing the cart down momentarily. If it was a liquid, like soup or stew, he ladled a few quick times into a canteen ready at his side. Vegetable pasties he swiped quickly off.

A few minutes later, he decided that he had enough. Cart rollers were looking at his suspiciously, and didn't stop when he was nearby at all.

Silently, he crept out of the Hall, and went where Gonff was at the moment, or was supposed to be-in the orchard.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Rose sat on the bed, watching the rain fall to the ground, splashing a little as it made contact with the earth below.

Her cloak was discarded, and the Abbess had given her another tunic, this one a deep blue.

The mousemaid took a deep breath, and let it out, pawing the dagger, running her claws down its' barely decorated hilt. She heard pawsteps outside of her door, and quickly slid the dagger in a spare pocket just in case. Her cloak she put on her lap hurriedly, and gazed out the window.

The door handle jiggled a little bit and a voice hailed her from outside of her room. "Teralose? May I come in?"

"Sure, Gonff."

The mouse ran in, and gave a mighty leap onto Rose's bed. Teralose jumped off in order to avoid being hit by the large missle.

Gonff hit the bed hard, and was sprung up into the air-into the wall, head first, because of the angle he had hit the bed at.

"YOWCH!" he yelped as his head made full contact with the stone wall. Rose cringed, remembering what had killed her in the first place.

"I'm alright, I'm alright. A bit dazed, though." The mousethief sat up, rubbing his head ruefully.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup. I'm a tough egg to crack. But Martin," he shook his head admirably. "He's even tougher."

Rose agreed with him in her head, but asked the question anyhow. "How so?"

The mousethief grinned. "Well, he was in that fight with the wildcat, Tsarmina. So many scratches from her claws, it was a miracle that he survived. Though he nearly was killed in the process-right outside the Dark Forest's gates at one point."

Rose remembered that. She was so excited to see him, but then, Boar, nearly arrived, had told her that it wasn't his time, and went to talk with him. Martin hadn't seen her at the time.

She nodded, physically, without even knowing it, and muttered, "You don't know the extent of it."

"Huh?" Gonff's head snapped up, his attention caught. Rose blushed, and quickly told him that it was 'nothing'.

"Alright. But," here the mouse smiled at her. "would you care to join Martin and I in a feast in the orchard?"

Rose looked at him. "Its' raining, and I thought that the feast was still in the making."

"They don't call me the Prince of Mousethieves for nothing."

Teralose grinned at that, and looked outside, and then again at Gonff, who she noticed for the first time, was soaked through. "I'll need to wear my coat."

Gonff nodded. "Of course!"

"You'll need one, though."

He waved his paw in the air, as if pushing something away. "Nonsense! Mousethieves have naturally water-resistant fur!"

Rose picked up one water-soaked arm, and looked at him. "What do you call this, then?"

Gonff withdrew his arm from Roses' grasp. "Erm……That's my arm?" He looked sheepishly at her.

"Soaked arm."

"Fine. Let me get a cloak, and we'll go." He ran out of the doorway, and disappeared.

Teralose stood and donned her cloak, pulling the hood up. She was jumpy, strained a bit, and let things loose because of it.

_You don't know the extent of it……_She hadn't meant to say it, but she did. And Gonff was already probably suspicious of the 'Ro-Teralose' incident.

But he didn't. She had seen what he hadn't, yet she had also not seen what Tsarmina had really done to him.

Gonff came bounding back, a black cloak waving behind him. "Coming, Teralose?"

"Of course I am!"

"Well then, let us go, O-" he paused, searching his mind for a phrase to describe her.

"Lady of the Roses?" She blurted, and then nearly smacked her head against the wall beside her, only the facts that she died by being thrown against a wall and that Gonff was there.

"Alright then, O Lady of the Roses, come now! We venture into the orchard, to face the beast, The Warrior of Redwall."

Rose laughed again, and, catching Gonff off guard, ran out the door into the hall. Gonff grinned again, and ran after her.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Teralose?"

"Yeah, Gonff?" They were outside, rain falling gently on their hoods.

"How do you spell your name? I think that it is T-e-r-a-l-o-a-s, but I'm not exactly sure."

"No, that isn't totally correct-it is spelled T-e-r-a-l-o-s-e. There is an 'e' after the 's', and an 'o' before the 's'."

"I stand corrected. Do you know any ballads from your home?"

"Yes, but I'd rather not sing it. I'm afraid that I do not have the best voice."

"Well then, I'll sing something!

_My grandmother's tarts were like rocks,_

_That's how grandpa lost his teeth._

_My father used to take those tarts,_

_And practice throwing them._

_Soon one day some vermin came,_

_To rob my grandparent's house._

_But Grandma was pre-e-pared,_

_She baked scores of those tarts._

_When the vermin came,_

_My father was waiting,_

_He offered,_

_Some of those tarts,_

_To the ver-er-min,_

_And they accepted them._

_A stoat went down first,_

_He swallowed a fang._

_Then three rats writhed on the floor,_

_Half their teeth on the ground._

_Well the rest caught one,_

_But before they could,_

_Hack him down,_

_Hit him down,_

_Father threw all of the tarts, _

_At the ve-ermin,_

_They went down,_

_Collapsing,_

_Onto the-e floor._

_And that is how the day was won,_

_With the tarts,_

_Thrown at the,_

_Silly little vermin._

_My grandmother baked tarts as hard as rocks,_

_Weapons a-plenty!"_

"Where did you hear that? I haven't heard anything like that song."

"I make them up. They come to my mind and out of my mouth in a second, and I really don't remember them afterwards."

"Ah."

"Now you sing one! I've sung one, you sing one."

Rose blushed. "Oh, no, I couldn't."

Gonff stopped, and held her back. They were a few yards from the orchard. "I'll take off your hood!"

"You wouldn't!"

"I would, Teralose. Just ask Martin."

Rose threw her paws up. "Fine, fine! But you had better put your paws over your ears."

"I'd rather not. Besides, I've heard your voice before. It would be a shame to miss it."

Rose sighed, but broke into a song.

"The Corsair Rangbad,

Was a little stoat.

One day his boat,

Crashed upon the sand.

Driving oarslaves,

Out onto the land,

He captured others,

Peaceful woodlanders.

One he took,

A little bird,

Whom carried a great sword.

The sword he took,

From the little bird,

And shackled the bird,

Amongst the others.

Soon they had to build a mighty fortress,

For their cruel captor.

The little bird,

A warrior born,

Escaped,

With two,

And help,

From outside.

A squirrel and a mouse,

Escaped with him.

A mouse and a mole,

Released them.

They went and gathered,

An army,

Traveling,

To a place,

Of peace,

For help.

They separated,

Into three and two,

Torn apart,

By a storm.

The squirrel and the mouse,

Met some players,

Who helped,

Free the rest,

Of the slaves.

Well the little bird,

The mouse,

And the mole,

Came with an army,

To help.

Against Rangbad,

The squirrel died,

By treachery,

One Rangbad's,

Side.

There was an epic battle,

Between the Woodlanders and Vermin.

The mouse died,

The little bird hurt,

But the vermin,

Were,

Vanquished.

And the little bird went,

Away,

From the place of Peace,

And promised,

To keep it,

Secret.

And the little bird locked,

The mouse in his heart,

And ne'er spoke of her,

Again."

They were well into the orchard by now, and Gonff applauded her. "Quite good, Quite good! Where did you ever learn that?"

Rose looked off into the distance, and replied softly, "I made it up as I went, but was based off of a real event. You may figure it out later."

Gonff looked at her curiously, and saw that sorrow was in her eyes, and a little thought came up-

_Is Martin the little bird, and she the Mouse he locked in his heart? _ But another thought argued against that. _But the Mouse was dead. Teralose couldn't be dead._ He paused a bit. _Could she?_

Little known to them, Martin heard it all. He had more evidence that she was who he thought she was. But what was her name? Why was she here if she had died because of him?

He wanted to cry his heart out. He had almost never felt this hopeless

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Brome sat at the head of the table, one of the things carved out of the wood of the giant that had been felled by Martin and the rest of Noonvale. The council sat around him, waiting for him to speak. Next to him on the right sat his mother, and on the opposite side, was Grumm.

"My friends, we have almost always known peace. But there is war coming, coming from the north-east. It will destroy a place called Redwall if we do not aid it, and then move onto us. Most likely, the war-bringers will take the woodlanders of Redwall prisoner, and kill those who try to oppose them."

An old otter raised a paw, with an opinion in mind. "May I speak my peace, Brome?"

"You may, Lialo."

"Why should we aid this Redwall? We know naught of them, and the only reason we helped out at Marshank was because Martin was our friend, and Rose-keep her safe in the Dark Forest-needed the help. And how do you know of Redwall, anyhow?"

Brome sighed. "I know of Redwall because I was at the Dark Forest's gate in a dream. I was begging Rose to come back and help us. I know of Redwall because one named Boar, a great Badger Lord of a distant fire-mountain called Salamandastron, told me of it, telling me that there was danger heading there. Redwall is newly established." He looked back at Lialo. "And the reason we are helping is that Martin the Warrior helped create this place. He had to fight in yet another war to help this place, called Mossflower, named for the Mossflower Woods nearby, be free of the tyranny of this place called Kotir, ruled by a wildcat called Tsarmina, who directed a horde of vermin. And there is another reason, but now is not the time to tell you."

There were murmurs, and one pipped up, a hedgehog maid. "But what is the other reason? That isn't really all that nice if you tell us there's another reason, and then you don't tell us what it is."

Brome looked at her. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, you see. Think I lost my mind out there in the sun."

The council table was quiet for a bit, and then yelling occurred.

"Come on, tell us!"

"Try me!"

"You usually make sense, Brome. It _wouldn't_ make sense, though, to think that all of a sudden, out of the blue, you lost it."

"Oi, thar arn' anay tharngs thart could surprois me no more, boi moi lardle oi says so. Or art least noat too marny."

Brome smiled a little at the old mole, his muzzle white with age. He looked up at his mother, and she nodded yes.

"ORDER, ORDER! I'LL TELL YOU, I'LL TELL YOU!"

Instantly, the noise boiled down.

Brome looked at all of the creatures, looking eagerly at him for the information in store. He knew that there was no way out.

"Another reason that I want to go is that……" he trailed off, looking at them uncertainly.

"Go on! Out with it!"

"It is that The Dark Forest has sent her out to help Redwall a little, to be prepared for the war coming."

"WHO?"  
"Rose. My sister. I don't want to see her be killed again, so I need to have help protecting her." He looked around the room. There were wide eyes staring at him, until Grumm broke the silence.

"Rose? Laterose? Burr aye, it'll be 'ard ter baylieve, but oi trust thee. An' oi'm naot goain' ter let 'er doie aigain!"

Brome smiled at him, tears growing in his eyes. But his mother behind him interrupted him.

"What about Martin? Wouldn't they know about her, and wouldn't he think that he was going crazy?"

He looked back at her. "Martin was in a fight with the wildcat. She died, but he was wounded so deeply, that they had a hard time getting him back. He lost a lot of his memory. And besides, Polikeen told us that Rose would stay locked in his heart. And nobeast there really knows of Noonvale."

He looked at them again. "Now, who's going with me?"

There was a mighty cheer, as the members of the council, all of them, raised their paws, clenched, and started to spread the grim news.

Noonvale was going to war.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Everybeast laughed and ate heartily. It was two whole days after Rose had arrived, and preparations, somewhat spoiled by the antics of Gonff and Martin, had to be redone, though it was very minor.

Martin and Gonff decided not to have their 'feast before the feast', and apologized to Teralose. Martin was confused and still wondering about Teralose, who he thought she was who he thought she was, but didn't know her name, and Gonff was still puzzling over Teralose's song.

_A little bird_, he thought, sitting down on the stone steps, pushed there by the cooks, and watched to make sure he didn't sneak off to steal anything. Martin……wasn't it another kind of bird, or was it just him? And the mouse……there were two mice. It would be very hard to figure out, that song. But, as the strange mousemaid had said, it was based off of a real occurrence. Or was a summary of that occurrence. Either way, he had to figure it out, if only just for Martin.

That reminded him. He had to tell Martin something. Slowly, he got up, and went over to Bella.

"Oy! Stripe-tunic! Word with ye, please!" he hollered, his voice semi-jovial from old habit. The badger turned around to look at him.

"What is it, Mousethief?" she asked back, a miniscule smile tugging at her lips gently. Gonff usually didn't fail to make her smile, expect in the most sincere times.

"Do you know where the Warrior is? Got to tell 'im somethin'."

Bella closed her eyes, and scrunched up her forehead, delving into some recent memory. "Last I saw, he was over in the Gatehouse, going over some of the parchments put in there."

Gonff started to run in the direction of the gatehouse, yelling a 'Thanks!' over his shoulder. Unfortunately, he had turned his head the other way, and did not keep his eyes looking ahead, for, if he did, he would have been able to avoid crashing into somebeast.

The mousethief twisted his head around just in time for a flash of gold in his eyes before colliding head-on into the beast blocking his path.

They both went flying; Gonff in the direction he just came from, and the other in the opposite direction.

Gonff was first up, his head slightly throbbing. He half-ran over to the other creature, garbed in a gold-ish tunic and robes, most likely in favor of the feast.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I really am, it's my fault, are you sure you're alright? I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sor-" he broke off recognizing the woodlander.

"Teralose? Are you alright? I'm sorry, I really am,"

The mousemaid smiled slightly. "I'm alright, Gonff. You don't need to rattle on, but that was kind of you to ask."

"Here, let me help you up. Where are you going?"

"Over to the kitchens to see if they need any help, but I'm afraid that I'm a bit lost. Where are they?"

Gonff pointed to his left, a little behind him. Teralose flashed a quick smile of thanks and jogged off towards the Great Hall, and disappeared behind it.

After watching her 'till she left his sight, he resumed his line of thought before he had gone to Bella to ask where Martin was.

Was she really the one who had been killed, or was she the survivor? Or was she neither?

Shaking his head, he continued towards the gatehouse, walking instead of running. The gatehouse was in sight after a minute or so, and, after making sure that nobeast was in his path, ran as fast as he could to where Martin was.

He knocked on the door, and was answered my a soft voice. It was Martin's, but it didn't sound like it.

"Come in."

Gonff opened the door, and it creaked softly on the way in. When he saw Martin, he was faintly surprised.

He had seen little of his friend in the last two days, and he looked disheveled. Nearby him was a quill and a little pot of ink, as well as some parchment, but there were only a few splotches of ink on it. Martin looked up, and saw Gonff.

"Hello."

"Martin, what's gotten into you lately, mate? Gonff closed the door behind him, and walked over to the warrior.

"Tryin' t' figure out who she is."

"Teralose?"

"Yes. Don't know how her name is spelled, though."

"She told me last night."

"What are they? Please, tell me!" Martin gripped the desk tightly, the pads of his paws turning slightly white.

"T-e-r-a-l-o-" Gonff stopped, and Martin took the quill from the inkpot, his paws slightly black.

"T, e, r, a," he muttered under his breath as he scratched the letters onto the paper one by one in a neat line, and then raised his voice. "What was the rest?"

"L-o-s-e. That's it."

Martin spelled the rest onto the paper, and muttered something to himself. He spelled the letters again underneath the first, putting a dot over each one, and then crossed that word off.

Gonff patiently waited as Martin tried different combinations of each word.

Time passed. The parchment was covered in words, all but one crossed out. Martin started another, _L, A, T,_ and stopped, looking at it, and slightly going pale. With slightly shaking paws, he finished, and then the quill clattered on the floor.

Gonff looked over Martin's shoulder, and looked at the word, though not staring at it like his friend was.

_L, A, T, E, R, O, S, E,_ it spelled. Gonff looked at Martin's face, and saw the pale skin even underneath the fur.

"What is it, Martin? What's the matter."

"Its' all coming back. It's all coming back. It can't be her, it can't be. But it all fits, it does."

"Teralose? How does it fit?"

Martin turned towards the Mousethief. "It all fits. I loved her, and I still do. But I led her straight into danger, into war. She died. It can't be. But it is."

As Gonff stared dumbstruck at the page, Martin whispered a few things. "My Laterose. My Rose. Alive.

"But how?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Martin's thoughts whizzed around in his head like stray arrows bouncing off the corners of his mind.

Rose? How? He loved her, he did. But how did she come back? Did she completely die, or did she not?

"Do you know where she is?" He heard himself asking Gonff faintly, and Gonff's reply.

"The kitchens. Teralose is in the kitchens."

Martin was gone before Gonff had finished his piece.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Boar hit his head with his paw as he watched, through a large oval hoop that was directed by a small stone the size of his paw, the two mice hunched over a piece of paper, looking at it, one staring at it more than the other._

_He already knew what was on the paper. He had been watching Martin and Gonff since a little bit after Gonffs' arrival._

_"What is it Martin? What's the matter?"_

_Boar groaned out loud, wishing frantically that Martin wouldn't tell Gonff, even if they were friends._

_"It's all coming back."_

_Boar let out another groan of despair as Martin repeated what he just said again. So much for hoping the impossible, and it happening._

_"It can't be her, it can't be. But it all fits, it does."_

_"Teralose? How-"_

_The Badger Lord grinned slightly as he remembered the anagram of Lateroses' name. It wasn't impossible to crack. They should've chose something different for her name._

_Martin's voice jerked him back to what was happening. "It all fits. I loved her, and I still do. But I led her straight into danger, into war. She died. It can't be. But it is."_

_Boar watched Gonff return his gaze to the page, while Martin whispered a few things._

_"My Laterose. My Rose. Alive."_

_Boar knew that if he told Rose that he knew who she was, she would never be able to come back. It would tear her heart apart, and she would never be able to be in the Council again, unless she died again, and Martin died with her._

_"Do you know where she is?"_

_**Great,**__ Boar thought. __**She'll HAVE to die again at this rate. And if he finds her, I can't stop him.**_

_"The kitchens. Teralose is in the kitchens."_

_Boar saw Martin run out right after Gonff said, 'The kitchens'._

_"Stop." The badger said to the oval, which darkened immediately. "Track Martin the Warrior."_

_The oval brightened again, and Boar sat back in the great oaken chair, watching his friend run towards the kitchens._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Rose carefully pitted a peach, and started making semi-even slices collecting the juice in a small, wooden bowl. She dumped the slices into a larger wooden bowl, and was just reaching for another peach as somebeast barged into the kitchen. Looking up slightly, she saw Martin, scanning the kitchen for somebeast.

She felt her heart jump to her throat as his eyes locked on her, and he slowly made his way towards her.

_Must be wondering were Gonff is._ She thought, but then saw a different look in his eyes.

It hit her.

_He knew who she was._

She would love to just jump into his arms, but remembered her duty. She had to return to the Dark Forest after the her quest- whatever it was- and understood that she wouldn't if she acknowledged who she was to Martin.

She scanned the area for the Friar, and, seeing the hedgehog, made her way to her.

A few minutes later, she had gathered her things and made for her room, glancing back at Martin as she left. She was going to have to stay away from Martin, even if her heart would break.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Martin saw her hurry to Gonff's adopted mother, and return to pick up the cloak she had draped over a hook nearby, and hasten out of the kitchen, away from where he just entered.

He saw her look over her shoulder, and saw the regret in her eyes, and the pain, as she left.

She knew.

He didn't know how, but she did. Perhaps it was the way he stood, or something else, but she knew.

But she couldn't be with him. The warrior understood that, at least. Why, he did not know.

Even though it would break his heart, he pondered, as he was dimly aware of being shoved out of the kitchens gently, he would stay away from her if that was what she needed, unless there was a turn of events he could not detect.

A small tear leaked out of his eye as he walked slowly to the battlements, and waited there until the feast.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_The oval darkened and Boar sighed. Rose knew what she was doing, and Martin somehow understood. Things were back on track._

_But now he had to check on the danger._

_"Show me the enemy."_

_The Stone flashed in his paw once, and the oval brightened up again. He watched as snow fell softly onto a camp of hastily put up tents, and the crunch of snow crushed by hindpaws was almost all of the noise there was in the area._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The ferret, clad in only a few rags, trudged, bare-pawed, in the bitter spring snow. Even though it was the time when snow was supposed to wear off, it was there almost all of the time up in the North; Only early summer to early fall was when the snow was banished.

As he approached the camp, a small robin in his paws, recently killed, he shuddered as a thought ran through his head, but carried on into the camp.

Twoscore of their numbers had died that winter, but there was still eightscore more, mainly hopefuls like himself that they might be able to go south into the sunnier regions, where the cold was not as harsh.

But the Master wanted to Rule.

What they had to do was swear fealty to him, and promise that they would help him gain control over the strange southern areas.

None but the ferret and the Generals, the Master's six most trusted hoardbeasts, as well as the most experienced in battle with the Lowerbeasts, who called the ferret's kind 'vermin', knew what the Master's first target was.

The ferret was not a General, though.

He had just happened to passing by-well, perhaps that is a bit of an exaggeration-when he overheard the Master's conversation with his Generals.

"…….Newly found, sire. Spies say that it took seasons to build up, made entirely of red sandstone." A smooth voice had said. It belonged to Сумматор, youngest of the Generals, in charge of the Spying Network.

"Excellent." A gravelly voice that was rarely heard sent a shudder through the ferret. The Master. "Кров-Похоть, report."

"The armory is filling up well, though we will need more. We need Toil-Beasts, more Lowerbeasts, to make more."

"How many?"

"About…..One to two score, my lord."

There was a pause, and the ferret wondered if he had been observed through the thickly woven cloth.

"That stands reasonable. Нищета, can you get that many within the season?"

"Yes, sire, but I will need more Middlebeasts to help me."

"You may take a half-score with you. Бол-Датель, are all of your testing instruments ready to be used and transportable?"

A strong, stready voice replied. "They are ready to be used, but have need of half a season more to make them fully ready to be transportable."

"You will need to hurry. Ед-Искатель, have you found and scourged enough to last us another week?"

"It depends on how my Gatherers have done. If they have done well, we will have food for two weeks. If not, one day."

The ferret nearly gulped in the silence that followed; for he had only been able to find a few early berries. After all, It was the beginning of spring, and there was little to be found in the case of plant-matter; he would go out again. Nothing would displease the Master more than disloyalty.

"You will have to push them a little harder, though I would be surprised if they got enough for two weeks. Is there enough firewood?"

"Much. Yesterday was spent getting more for our stores." The ferret remembered that, and stopped himself from massaging his right shoulder-it was still sore.

"Good. Now, Сражени-Искатель, how are the tactics going?"

"I will need more information, Кров-Глаза, My Lord. Сумматор needs more information to give to me."

"Of course, my friend. Сумматор, I will give you another week to find more, about this 'Redwall' place. And if you do not have enough, one last, final week to give Сражени-Искатель more information. He will get three weeks to find battle-plan A, then another three weeks for B, and One last week for C.

"I am finished."

The ferret heard the rustling of mats being picked up and folded, and hasty bows being committed. He watched them in the near-darkness, walking to six other medium-sized tents.

He wasn't noticed. As quietly as he could, he stood up, and, aware that the crunch of footpaws would alert the Master of his presence at the very least, strapped on the snowshoes that he had strapped to his back a little while ago, slid through the snow with barely a sound away from the Master's tent.

"Безмолвие, come here."

The ferret paused, and then glided obidently to the Master's tent. How the Master knew his name, he did not know. He stopped at the enterence, unsure of what to do.

"Take the snowshoes off, and enter."

Immediately, Безмолвие shed the shoes and, carefully wiping his footpaws, stepped within, his eyes shut.

"Безмолвие, have you been spying on me?"

"Sire," The ferret paused, knowing that he had to tell the truth. "I was told that I needed to prove myself to the Higher ones to me by them, and to wait an hour outside your tent, at this time, and then report what you said to them. So, Master, I suppose it was spying."

There was silence. The ferret waited for the Master's voice to tell him to kneel and allow him to dis-connect his head. It was the second-lowest way of killing a beast.

"You are holding a fact or more back. Did they threaten you with a weapon?"

"Y-y-yes-s, Sire."

"What with?"

"Beating me with a stave, and then whipping me." The ferret knew that if one word of this incident was revealed to his tormenters, he was literally dead.

He thought he heard a growl. "I shall go back with you for a while. Show me where you camp."

The ferret turned around and walked carefully to the tent enterance, but once out of the semi-warm tent, he tripped and fell face-down into the snow. He did not try to push himself up with his arms, but instead rolled onto his back, and carefully sat up.

A moment later, Безмолвие was on his paws, and walking towards his camp, a black-cloaked shadow following behind.

Later, the ferret remembered, his tormentors were punished, and he was put into two groups- spying, and gathering.

He would spy soon, Безмолвие thought, as he gave the robin, and a couple clumps of something called horsetail, whatever a 'horse' was, he had found on the way to his Gathering General, Ед-Искатель.

For in two days, they would head out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Boar sighed, and waved a paw at the oval, which immediately darkened. Sometimes, he could hear the beasts' thoughts, which he did with that young ferret's. He checked the ferret's fate-strand, and sat back, looking mildly surprised._

_Strange…………This ferret, though he was a 'vermin', was important to both the 'vermin' and the 'woodlanders'._

_The fate strand said something strange about the ferret Безмолвие. Something impotant._

_Boar looked back at the oval, and gently pressed it with one giant paw. It shrunk rapidly until it fit into a hardly noticeable ring-shaped indenture carved into his stone._

_He checked the time by the sun in the Dark Forest outside of his window, and saw that it was time for Rose to be reminded of her mission._

_So he sent it._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A/N-I apologize for not updating-It has been a very, VERY buisy time for me. Moving.

I hope that you get the picture.

Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Rose sat on her bed, sobbing into her paws. She wished that she hadn't been able to go back here, hadn't had to hide, hadn't had to _die_ in the first place!

She remembered it clearly. Everything.

_They were setting the Rambling Rosehips' cart on fire, and unleashing it to fuel the flames that would eventually devour the heavy wooden gate hungrily, ravenously._

_They had planned this well. Rose was to be with Grumm and the moles, who were tunneling under the stone walls, and protect them from fire, catching any vermin she could with her sling._

_The ambush was going well. There were cries in the air, and more vermin fell than woodlanders, which she was grateful for. Martin was with the bow beasts, under Ballaw's direction._

_All had gotten in, and Rose heard the roar of Rowanoak, and guessed that she had gotten through the flames of the front gates._

_"Badraaaang, I am here!"_

_A sudden chill went up and down her spine. Knocking yet another vermin off the wall with a well aimed stone, she gestured to Pallum and Grumm, and ducked a sword swung at her by a rat, who was stunned instantly with a pebble fired from Grumm's ladle. In the flickering firelight, smoke obscuring the stars above, she saw the stoat running from a mouse, who fought harsly._

_**Martin……**_

_"Come on! He'll need us to help stop him!"_

_She set off at a run, and skid to a stop as she noticed him, through a gaping hole in the stone, where the rat had seen her and climbed out of, make his way to the compound , where many of their fighters were still exiting from._

_"Through the compound tunnel, we've got to stop Badrang!"_

_They went through, Grumm first, Pallum last, and Rose in the middle. They saw, upon exiting, Badrang coming very close to the compound._

_"If he gets through you two, I'll block the tunnel entrance!" without stopping to hear their opinion, Pallum jumped back into the hole._

_Grumm launched himself at Badrang, his ladle raised. Viciously, Badrang swung at him, and it was only the ladle which saved Grumm, the sword catching the ladle instead of the mole._

_Gritting her teeth, she quickly loaded her sling, and pounced on the tyrant, hitting him, once, twice, thrice on the face. She saw blood on his lips, and he grabbed her, snarling. Lifting her up, she was aware of Martin's scream of rage, and a sudden pain in her head, disappearing as she plunged into darkness._

There was a knock on her door.

"Who is it?" she wiped a tear off her face, and plastered a small smile on her face, though her voice came out cracked.

"Gonff."

"Oh. Come in."

The door opened, and Gonff came in, looking at her quizzically, and upon seeing the water in her eyes, he sat down on the bed with her.

"What is it?"

She gave him a sad smile, and shook her head. "You wouldn't understand."

He frowned at her slightly. "I think I would, _Laterose_."

She stiffened and turned towards him. "You know my name is Teralose!" her voice came out high and squeaky,

He ignored her. "Or would you prefer Rose? Much easier t'say."

She sighed and sobbed again, a fresh wave of tears cascaded down her cheeks. Gonff put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him, crying, and mumbling incoherent things.

"Shhh…shhh…it's alright, it's okay…"

Rose lifted a tear-stained face to look at him. "No, it's no 'okay'. You wouldn't understand the whole of it, you wouldn't understand much of it."

Gonff frowned. "You really think that?"

"Yes."

Laying down, he looked at her, arms crossed over his chest. "Well then, you can just try it."

Rose looked at him.

Should she?

Or should she not?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Boar, once again, watched Rose. He would have to do that constantly now, for the message must be sent._

_Tonight._

_He watched Gonff as he asked her to tell him. He watched her struggling to decide._

_She would tell him._

_At least, that was what he thought._

_"Rose," he mumbled, "Please, __**Please**__ don't tell him too much, if anything at all. Please."_

_Rose shook her head. "I'm sorry Gonff, perhaps another time. If B-a friend were here, he might tell you most of it, but I can't. See if you can figure out my song, that should give you enough clues for the moment."_

_Boar felt as though he could kiss Rose._

_Gonff furrowed his brow, and then relaxed it. "If you say so, Rose. Come on, it's almost time for the feast. An hour before sunset. The kitchens are always one of the best places to be."_

_Rose laughed. "Yes, Mousethief. Of course they are, for you."_

_Looking at the setting sun, she stayed quiet for a little bit. "Gonff, it's about half-way to dark. Not another three hours until the feast."_

_"That's alright!" Gonff had regained his cheery mood. "A couple of pinched pies, and you'll feel better! Remember, you were going to sing tonight?"_

_"I was?" It was evident that Rose had no clue about this._

_"Oh. Erm, I kind of…"_

_"You liddle fiend!"_

_Rose leapt at Gonff, who rolled to the side as quick as he could, and ran out of the door, 'Teralose' in full pursuit._

_Boar sat back and pondered a bit. Three hours…_

_That should leave him enough time to check on that strange vermin lad, who seemed important…_

_The Fate-Strand of all-beasts rarely changed._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Безмолвие crouched in the snow, white fur easily cloaking him from sight.

_Stealth._

Quietly, carefully, he crept forward, thick fur protecting him from the cold for the most part. On his belt, there was a flask with a sleeping drought in it.

_Caution._

His job was to slip the sleeping drought in Tent Eighteen. His tent. Or, more specifically, the tent he shared with Гнев, Ненависть, and Лед.

_Darkness._

He had to stay in the shadows. Ever since the Master-or, as he permitted Безмолвие to call him- Кров-Глаза had shown them their place, shown them that he wasn't all that much lower than him, and _very_ close to being a Highbeast, they had been after his blood. He had to be careful. Last night, he barely avoided a knife that was being plunged down at his throat.

_Shadow._

He approached the tent, and, without the use of the black cloak used by most spies, who infiltrated as well as spied, and slipped inside. They were having dinner. As usual, his plate was empty by now.

_Silence._

He hid underneath one of the bunks. They had no clue of his infiltration.

"So, where do you think the scumbag's gone to, Гнев?" The silver weasel asked a tan rat.

"No clue, Ice."

Безмолвие nearly growled. The Master didn't want most speaking their names in Lower Tounge. No, that wouldn't do.

_Distraction._

Slowly, Безмолвие drew a small stone-one of the few he had- and threw it out of one of the ice-panes. Slivers of ice were everywhere.

Suddenly, as the three tyrants were turned, Безмолвие nearly cursed out loud. By the flames of Ад! He had forgotten-they were stupid, yes, but even a Lowerbeast, a Toil-beast, would have noticed that there was no stone, had it been thrown from the inside.

Quickly, without a sound, he placed a stone out of place near another bunk, and slipped over to their dinners.

As fast as he could manage without making a ruckus, while the others were examining the window, and swearing loudly, he dipped a few drops into each drink, and a drop or so on each plate.

_Escape_.

He would go now, before they noticed him. Like he was a shadow, albeit a white one, he slid out of the tent and a safe place, far away. Perhaps there was some food to be found.

He counted the essential steps.

_Stealth, Caution, Darkness. Shadow, Silence, Distraction. Escape. _

He had gotten all of them.

But as he began picking some wild Billberry, which had just ripened, a rich red, and like a blackberry, he remembered something.

The ice.

It had flown, most of it, outwards.

_Война, give him strength._

_Ад, give him the fury to be able to withstand the taunts of those larger than him._

_Солнце, give him the warmth to stand before the blizzard._

_Судьба, give him extra time on his fate-strand._

Here, the young ferret paused. You usually didn't ask this goddess for help-she was the only one, and the meaning of her name went against all rules of the tribes of Кровопролитие.

But still he did.

Мир_, give him the wild tranquility of a forest._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Boar waved a paw, and the stone went dark._

_He drummed a few claws on the wooden surface in front of him, deep in thought. Where next?_

_Sitting up straighter than before, he snapped his claws. __**Of course!**__ He thought, and said a couple of words to the darkened stone, where shadows prowled silently._

_"Noonvale, Brom._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Brom carefully harvested poppy seeds from the dried head, crumbling them into a small bag. Only a few dropped to the ground, and most were picked up by the healer, experienced beyond his years.

Straightening up to stretch, he looked around. Everywhere, there was a sign of war.

Once-abandoned forges now were inhabited by smiths who traveled here in search of a life where they would not be forced to create weapons of war. Smoke spilled lazily into the sky, creating a willy-nilly pathway into the clouds, thinning out to invisible vapor against the shining sun.

Some mothers were sitting on stones around a huge heap of thin bark, weaving tight, but flexible slings for the dark horizon steadily approaching. Children were gathering feathers molted from birds on high, for the fletching of arrows. The straight sticks were shaves, sharpened, and heated by fire over the course of many days, and the feathers were carefully applied properly. The clan of otters from nearby were also there, practicing with many others of Noonvale, with an assortment of weapons.

Ballaw was with Rowanoak, instructing youngsters on how to make and throw javalins, while Grumm, nearby, was teaching some moles how to throw pebbles into the air correctly with a sling, or, a ladle.

Brom was saddened by the sight, the sight that he had to endure before. Before, the only time before, was when Badrang threatened all whom were good. And that was too soon ago to be going to war. Again.

Nevertheless, Brom reached down to another poppy head, and crumbled the seeds into the pouch. Nearby, there were some others who wished to be healers, gathering dock leaves and other herbs for healing.

A paw tapped him on the shoulder as he was gathering another poppy head-goodness knows how many they would need-and he slipped, scattering seeds all over the place.

"Erm...Brom?"

The mousemaid was tan, a bow strapped to her back and a quiver of arrows suspended by her belt, at her hip.

"Yes, Dahlia?" the mousemaid had arrived only a season or so ago, and was a roaming beast-her weapons rarely left her side.

"Your mother wants to see you."

He nodded in thanks, and stood from his crouching position. He carefully shook the poppy seeds clinging to his paws into the bag. Who knew how many they would need for this war?

He padded softly down a memorized path to the house in which he and his mother resided, and pushed open the wooden door.

"Mother?" he called hesitantly, tiptoeing inside of the doorway.

"In the living room!"

Brom walked in, pausing at the doorway to the living room. "You called?"

"Yes." She turned to him, and again he noted the rapidly graying fur, heavy around the muzzle. It astounded him at how old she had gotten within the last few seasons.

He sat down without her asking and straightened his back, ready to listen with rapt attention.

"Why must we go?"

He sighed in his mind, but made no such gesture. The mouse knew how much his mother had turned against war in grief for Rose's dead life, and saw no reason to go. "Mother, we must. Martin is there, Rose is there…" he trailed off, turning his head to look out the window, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye in the meantime.

She looked at him with careful curiosity, and he knew in his heart that she wasn't sure, even now, if Rose was truly alive; the sight of her body, the spine cracked and broken, head cracked slightly, wrenched her heart so much that she stayed in silence for five seasons, speaking only when her husband died of sorrow. And even then, she still mourned for her lost daughter, her Laterose.

"I do not believe that any could come back from the dead. What about her body?"

Brom shook his head. "She did not return from the dead; as far as I know, she is only staying in the land of the living for a short period of time."

"Then why save her again, for her to die anyways?"

"It would be better to save her from the fate of dying in battle than let her be skewered on a spear."

Brom's mother sighed, echoing his own thoughts. "For why should she die in battle twice?"

He nodded. "Exactly."

"But what about the young'uns?" she gestured outside to the smaller, not yet matured creatures outside, eagerly helping to prepare for battle. "They have no need to die, but why are they helping? I can see in their eyes that they wish to go to battle and prove themselves."

Brom gulped mentally. This was why Rose died. He wanted away from his father, he wanted to prove himself-and ended up being captured by Badrang. "They will not go if I can help it. If they go, it will be only the eldest, and they will stay in a medical tent caring for those brought back from the battlefield, wounded."

"I have no want to lose you."

Brom now sighed out in the open. "Mother, I will not be fighting, only trying to care for the injured. I will try not to fight with sword or weapon, only the skills with herb and healing I possess to keep death from taking over will I fight with."

His mother stood from her chair, and paced around in a circle. Finally, she stopped, and looked at him.

"As much as I wish not to let you be harmed, to keep you away from battle, I will let you go, but on one condition."

"Yes, Mother?"

She looked him, straight in the eye, and, even before she spoke, he knew what it was.

"I want to come and help to heal."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Boar quickly darkened the stone yet again. An internal clock told him that it was time to get the message to Rose._

_He shrunk the stone and pocketed it, moving to the mirror._

_"Rose."_

_It showed her singing, near the end of a beautiful song. She had sung it once, he remembered, and it was very pretty. Morbid at the beginning, but all turned out all right at the end._

_She hit the last note, and, when she was seated, he spoke again._

_"Message to Rose of Noonvale, currently at Redwall Abbey."_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Martin applauded loudly with the rest as Rose sat down again. He had almost forgotten what it was like for her to sing…

He glanced at Gonff, who caught his eye and winked. Gonff knew and wouldn't tell any but Rose herself, he was sure. Their friendship was far too strong for anything else to happen.

Suddenly, there were gasps, as Rose collapsed, but then, as though she were a puppet on strings, she ascended the stairs again in small, jerky steps. Martin furrowed her brow, and it deepened as she spoke in a voice that was not her own.

"**A danger coming**

**From the north,**

**A cold wind blowing,**

**From the north,**

**A help is coming,**

**From the south,**

**But still not enough,**

**From the south.**

**Among the north,**

**There may be one,**

**To help the ones of Red Sandstone.**

**Among the south,**

**A betrayer be,**

**One who will sell,**

**Lives to the north.**

**A flower come,**

**To help you here,**

**A flower shining,**

**To guide you safely,**

**Through maze of swords,**

**Gauntlet of spears,**

**So trust the flower,**

**Trust a Northerner,**

**And pity the betrayer.**

**Become ready,**

**For war,**

**So soon,**

**From Tsarmina,**

**Of thousand eyes.**

**A north wind blows south,**

**Cold and bitter,**

**Ruthless,**

**Destroying in its wake.**

**So cry out now,**

**Gather allies,**

**For war,**

**For war,**

**For war.**"

Rose collapsed again, and all stood up as one.

Martin was horrified as they dragged her off to the wine cellar, suspicious and angry. Gonff was at his side, nodding at his dagger, and, understanding, he nodded back.

He would prepare for war.

* * *

A/N: I finished this just for you guys...if any of you are left hanging around for this installment.

I deserve no less to have no reviews, but I would like some.

Thank you.


	6. Chapter 5

* * *

Chapter 5:

Brome looked over the new army, crowded in the clearing around the stump of that great tree Martin had helped to fell…

His mother stood beside him, and she held up a withered paw. Withered, but strong.

"My son would like to say a little."

Brome looked at the crowd, and felt a loss for words. What was there to be said? He saw them staring up at him expectantly, and voiced the first thing on his mind.

"Are you afraid?"

There were startled glances, surprised gazes, and some nods from the crowd.

"You know why? I have never felt so afraid in my entire life, but for the Battle of Marshank."

A voice rang out from the group below. "Then why don't we all stay here, where it's peaceful? Not go to war?"

"Because there are beasts out there who believe in freedom and justice and peace. There are beasts out there that want to take advantage of that. And, being one of the creatures wishing for peace, I will do anything to make sure they don't fall. To make sure that Rose doesn't fall. Again." He stated it calmly, and his voice didn't harden dramatically like most leaders going out to war. Noonvalers weren't like that.

There were murmurs of agreement in the crowd, and nods of those who remembered Rose.

"If anybeast wishes to leave, I understand. But hear me now; when they conquer Redwall, They'll be after us. Next."

There was silence, and one spoke up. "If there is no victory and all become lost, I will stay behind to defend Noonvale to the very last." The squirrel stood up, swinging a sling casually. Celandine's daughter wasn't in the least like her mother.

A few others stayed behind, some with worries for their families; others to protect Noonvale if all else failed.

Silence fell, but was rudely interrupted by a snort, and mumbles of outrage as one beast pushed her way through the crowd.

Dahlia ran up to the base of the stump, and raised her bow into the air. "Ready for War?

"Ready for bloodshed?

"Ready to defend what we believe is right?"

Allbeasts screamed in agreement.

"Onto Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!"

They marched out, with Brome wondering what monster may had been released by his vision.

* * *

_Boar anxiously watched the screen dim. The beasts of The Dark Forest weren't allowed to interfere with things like this, but it the outcome was balanced on the tip of a knife…one wrong move, and all would go bad._

_Speaking of…_

_Rose. He hadn't thought that the Redwallers would act in that way, but it was predictable. So soon after Tsarmina had been vanquished, a mousemaid turning up and having some kind of strange fit._

_He'd better check on her._

_"Rose, Redwall."

* * *

_

She woke to a strange dizzy feeling in her head and a numb feeling in her paws. She barely knew they were even there.

It was dark, and she couldn't see anything except for hulking shapes, round, varying in height. The floor under her seemed cold and earthy, nothing like the stone of which ended her life…

Involuntarily, she shivered a little. She didn't like thinking about her death…she didn't like the feeling that her body had, and might still be, under the earth in eternal sleep. It scared her to think of that flash of light and spiraling into darkness swiftly. She doubted that many beasts had experienced death and had come back. They might have come close, she was pretty sure Martin had. The beasts here praised him and viewed him as a hero; they were currently, in secret, working on a tapestry of him that would hang in the Great Hall forever, or so it seemed. His sword was gone.

Light filled the cavern, causing her to squint her eyes in an effort to block the invading discomfort. Light had always been calming to her, but to see it like _that_! after spending quite a bit of time in the dark was not the best experience for her.

Three beasts blocked the light, and one quickly shut it. She tried to get away from them; the Redwallers were supposed to be kind, to be caring. Why were they doing this? They had tied her to a stake driven into the ground, deeply driven in, and she couldn't get away, couldn't get out, couldn't escape.

There was total darkness once again, and Rose listened intently for the swish of green habits and the sound of the coarse-spun plant fiber rubbing together, listened for the quietness or loudness to judge their distance.

A clenched paw suddenly connected with the side of her head, and it was snapped back, causing her to cry out in pain.

There was muted sounds of struggling, and whispers, some of which she heard, through the banging of pain's hammer knocking at the inside roof of her head.

"Can't…don't know…down here."

"Quiet, will you! The abomination has ears, you know."

A paw suddenly clenched her chin, forcing her to look up into dark eyes, barely recognizable from the rest of the face.

"Who are you and what are you doing in our Abbey?"

She shook her head frantically, scared out of her wits. She didn't want them here, she didn't want to talk."

Somebeast punched her arm in an un-friendly way causing bolts of pain to shoot up to her shoulder. "Speak!"

"Teralose."

"Tell the truth!" she was punched in the arm again, harder, and in the same spot.

"Teralose! Warning Abbey!" She cried out, only to have a paw muffle her answer.

"Not so loud! Now. Tell. The. Truth."

"I am." She was deathly afraid of the dark now, deathly afraid of her head hitting one of the stone walls, one of the tall things that surrounded her. "I am!"

A blow caused her head to snap back again, nearly hitting the barrel next to her. She cried out again, this time louder.

"Why do you threaten our Abbey?!"

"No…no…not that again…not that fate…no…"

"Quit babbling and tell us the truth!"

The door was pushed open forcefully and the light poured in, revealing barrels and crates around her, and three young beasts.

A mouse stood in the doorway, and looked on with disbelief at the scene he found, with Rose sobbing on the ground, tied up so that she couldn't fight back.

"No…no more…don't want to die that way…not again…"

Gonff blocked the youngster's escape and called up the stairs, "Martin! Bella! Help here!"

Pawsteps echoed down the passage, and within minutes, the badger and mouse were in view.

"Not again…not again…no more…don't want that…don't want to spiral down…not into darkness…not again…"

Martin stared at her, and rounded on the tormenters angrily. "Why?"

"It threatened out abbey." The squirrel spoke, gazing defiantly at the elder warrior.

"How?" Bella inserted before the warriormouse would blow. "How does she threaten it?"

"It. It is the beast. Who ever hears of a beast going into a trance and yammering off a warning? It is trying to fool us. We felt that we needed to keep our home safe from things such as this."

"Come with me." Bella growled, and grabbed the miscreants by the collar of their shirts.

Martin picked Rose up, and cradled her head. "Shhhh, I'm here. I'm here, Teralose."

"Rose." The croak came out. "Rose. No more Teralose. Rose."

"I'm here, Rose."

* * *

_Boar stared at the blank stone again, his nose slightly wrinkled in the beginning of a snarl._

_Those young beasts! Those stupid, stupid creatures! Even _Bella_, who had lost her husband and son to Tsarmina's father, knew better than to torture the mousemaid!_

_He shook his head. After the way Rose had died, she had become a bit…frailer. Everything that involved getting hit on the head shook her nerves a little, and the dark, the blows, the tall, solid shapes; they had snapped them. It would take time and patience to restore her to her former state._

_He drummed his claws on the wood table, and sighed. Those beasts… they were young and overprotective, he supposed. Still, they would have nightmares for a week. This was a good enough reason to send them._

_The former Badger Lord stared at the stone again, and blew a gust of breath out of the corner of his mouth._

_"Безмолвие, Army of the North."

* * *

_

It was greener down here than where they came from. Less snow, and even then, it fell in slight flurries, unlike the heavy, constant summer storms back home. Winter was too deadly for them to live that far north, and they went south to shake some of the snow off.

Безмолвие shrugged the heavy pack further onto his shoulders, and glanced behind him just as a ball of snow hit him in the face. It muffled a startled yelp, but not enough for the attacker to miss it.

"Hah! You aren't silent, like your name suggests, are you, сирота?"

He bit back a stinging retort, and kept his eyes ahead, not even bothering to wipe off the packed snow.

"Are you dumb or somethin'? 'S that why you were named 'Silence'?"

The ferret ignored them. It was no good to rise to their bait, and all he would gain was trouble.

"Answer me!"

A scornful laugh nearly made its way out of his mouth, but he swallowed it, keeping his face emotionless; stone.

"Answer me, you son of a Toilbeast!"

How-how dare they! It was the worst thing that anybeast could call another; and calling their mother that… 'Anger', the rat, was asking to be maimed heavily. Even then, he didn't let the mask fall. No comment would be able to penetrate its walls…he hoped.

"What's this?" The rat was now right next to him, trying to tear off his knapsack. 'Silence' jerked it back and kept marching in time with the rest of the seemingly deaf, dumb, and blind army. It was because of 'Anger's' position as one of the Higher Beasts that they turned their gaze away.

The rat dug his paw into one of the holes, and pulled out one the customary symbol of War, the large grey fox leaning of a broadsword. The rest came out, and then he got to the symbol of Peace.

"Oho! Why you carryin' her? You worship her, then?" Without stopping, he threw it away, flinging it high into the trees, when a gigantic paw snatched it out of the air.

The creature wore a heavy black cloak, and it had a hood over its head. Intelligent, gold eyes glittered from underneath it, and it-she-he handed it back to Безмолвие.

"What are you doing, Гнев?"

The rat's eyes widened in fear as he stepped back a little, stammering undecipherable words. The marching had stopped, and all beasts eyes were on the cloaked beast.

"Answer."

"Ch-ch-check-ck-cking th-the tr-tr-trait-t-tor's b-b-bag-g f-f-for-r ev-v-vid-d-denc-c-c-ce."

"What traitor?"

"HIM!" the rat screeched, pointing a claw at the mottled ferret. "He's the traitor!"

"How?"

"I-I d-don-n't-t kn-kn-know-w."

"Then why call him traitor?"

"What orphan wasn't a traitor?" 'Anger' seemed to regain his cool, and talked to the creature calmly.

"When isn't there a first time?"

"When will that first time _be_?"

"Nobeast knows. Гнев, you are to be on half-provisions for hassling this ferret."

"But that's only a little provision off!"

"Talking in the Lower Tongue and arguing with the Master is enough for all provisions, but I will let you off easy. This time."

Гнев's eyes widened again, and he scuttled off to his position in the lines.

"Безмолвие, come with me."

The ferret followed his Master, a bit worried. He didn't know why he was singled out; usually, if you _were_ singled out, it wasn't for having dinner with him, or anything like that.

Безмолвие was led through ranks, higher and higher until they were nearing the Generals. And, when they reached them, they kept on going. He was thoroughly confused now; who ever heard of a middlebeast like him going up this far, this fast? What was the purpose of this? As maddening as these questions were, he knew not to ask the Master them. For who knew what was to happen if these questions annoyed him?

* * *

_Boar watched as the scene slowly dimmed, and his claws clicked once more on the polished table._

_**I really hope that this 'Master' doesn't tell him his inheritance. If reveals far too much of the future, even here in the Dark Forest.**_

_He sighed in resignation. It would happen. No matter what, it would happen. It always seemed to happen, and always to him. _

_**Badger Lords of Salamandastron, I need a break**__. He started to stand, and then hesitated._

_Rose?_

_Rose, or no Rose?_

_Rose, or Rest?_

_He shook his head, and sat back down, but just for a brief flash. Physical well-being first, then mental. He'd do that._

_"PWB of Rose."_

_There were areas that weren't doing so well. Her head, her arm was alright, and her wrists, being deprived of blood, were throbbing insistently. Her heart…he nearly reeled back in surprise. It was hardly beating. A beat or two per minute. Perhaps a side effect of her coming back to life? Or of the beating? _

_He shook his head, and waved his paw, open, then shutting it as he waved it onward._

_"MWB of Rose."_

_It was like somebeast had broken her personality. It was shattered, flung into dark corners of her mind, and Boar sighed. He needed to give her a dream in her sleep. It wasn't going to be quick._

_"Dream, Rose."

* * *

_

_He found himself in heavy mists, and Rose was sitting on the ground, dazed and confused._

_"Hello."_

_She looked up. "Who are you?"_

_With effort that wasn't shown, he drew out the broken bits of her personality, and molded them together in the shape of her true self._

_"What are you doing?"_

_"Teralose, Laterose, Rose." He spoke her three names. "One in three, her true self be/Let it return, let it yearn/To stay there forever, again to never/ Be shattered, be crushed, be scattered." He didn't like the rhyming that much, but it had to be done. The true self turned towards Rose, and she backed away slowly._

_"Who are you? What are you doing? What is __**that**__?"_

_If caught up with her, and she fell. A minute passed, and another, before she got up again and caught sight of him. "Boar?"_

_He was relieved that it had worked. "Yes. Now, sleep. You have injuries to recover from and I," here he sighed again. He seemed to be doing quite a bit of that these days. "I, need some well-deserved rest. Checking up on everybeast takes out more than you would think."_

_Rose nodded, and walked away. She disappeared in a swirl of mist, and he felt the dream end._

_

* * *

_

A/N: Hated writing Rose's beating. Hated it. You can see why at the end I had Boar heal her... decided that this cliffie was alltogether too mean.

Just to let all of you know, I do NOT put this one off until it is last in line. Never will I EVER do that. I think.

Thanks! (for reading. I'm saying thanks for that a lot lately...)


	7. Chapter 6

**I apologize for the long wait. I wrote a little bit of it a while ago (A month or so), and then I scrapped the near-done chapter. The story was going far too slow.**

**I wrote a page and a half a couple of weeks ago. Then I wrote the rest of the six or so whoppin' pages today. Be thankful I had a willing muse today.**

**Anyhow, enough of my babbling. Thank you. (You're going to have more reason to hate that squirrel in this chapter)**

* * *

Chapter 6:

Martin was jerked awake by the pounding of a log, frantic and loud, accompanied by frenzied shouting.

"Vermin at the gates! Vermin at the gates!"

Swiftly, Martin snapped the covers back, and rolled out of the bed. He grabbed the small sword that had replaced his own, star-steel heirloom, and was out of the room.

Redwall was in understandable chaos, and Martin had to jump and twist to avoid being knocked to the ground. He reached the battlement stairs, and began to ascend them when a large paw held him back.

"Steady, Martin," Bella softly spoke. "Let the Abbot speak to them. They do not yet know of the Warrior inside these walls, I think."

The mouse struggled to push the warrior rising up down, who was trying to tinge the world red, when a smaller paw clasped his shoulder. He looked at the beast, and was held by Rose's eyes.

"Peace, Martin. You don't need to rush into battle just yet." She smiled a little.

Immediately, he was scolding her, mind turned away from the vermin at the gates. Bella nodded, pleased, and calmly ascended the stairs. "Ro-Teralose! You're supposed to be in the infirmary! You had a severe beating, and you should be resting!"

Rose shook her head, and whispered, "I don't want to pretend, Martin. No more Teralose, I am Rose. Laterose, Rose."

"No. You have to stay secret here; how would I explain you? They wouldn't believe the truth."

"Fine, Martin. But I want to be Rose, when we're alone." She smiled a little again, and then, before Martin could stop her, she went up the steps.

She stood beside Bella, looking down at the vermin messengers carrying a white flag of parley. It was a small party of five, consisting of a huge, indiscernible cloaked creature at the head, with a medium-sized brown-dappled white weasel holding the parley flag. Behind those two was a tan fox, a silver ferret, and a light-brown rat.

"Is this the Abbey of Redwall?" the weasel called up to the Abbot and the others on the battlements.

"Yes, it is. What may we do for you? Do you require food, drink, or healing of any kind?"

Rose felt Bella stifle a snort. These beasts would want the Abbey, naturally. Wasn't that what usually happened?

"We have come to seek the possibility of we, the Higherbeasts, ruling this magnificent structure and you, the Lowerbeasts, living beneath us here."

"In other words," Bella murmured to Rose, who was still crouching below the battlements. "They want to take over the Abbey and have the creatures of Redwall be here for the sole purpose of our slaving away for them."

Rose nodded slightly, and grimaced. Why did the danger have to come _so soon_? Why not later?

"I am sorry, my sons, but we may not give up the Abbey to you. Do you require temporary bedding or rest? We can do that for you, but nothing like what you are asking."

The weasel stood higher. "You, the Lowerbeasts, were destined to be Toilbeasts for His Excellency, the Great Ruler of the Northlands, the Kind Lord over the Army of the First, and the Generous Master of the Toilbeasts within his giving service."

Gonff had snuck his way up onto the battlements. "So why doesn't your High-And-Mighty Ruler speak to us himself? The cloaked one?"

"You are unfit to look upon the grace and beauty of His Lordship's features, or hear the wonderous peals of his voice! You, mouse, need to be shown your place!"

Gonff's only reply was to stick out his tongue childishly, stick his thumb-claws right in front of his ears, and waggle the rest.

The weasel's eyes narrowed, and he hissed some odd word in a strange language Rose didn't recognize. Archers jumped out of the bushes, aiming their drawn arrows at Gonff's chest. This was too much.

Rose slowly stood, and looked down on them. "To draw weapons and act as though to harm the opposing army is against the laws of the parley, is it not?"

The weasel looked slightly stunned for a minute, but the emotion ceased immediately, replaced by an ugly snarl. "Do not recite the laws of the Parley to me, Lowerbeast."

"Then abide by them, and you won't be lectured." Rose straightened up further. "I'm sorry, but I believe you do have your answer. We will not give up Redwall, not for anything in Mossflower or the lands beyond!"

She heard a snort behind her, and immediately knew it was the squirrel youngster, grumbling away about her being a threat to the Abbey. She ignored him.

The weasel stuck the forked branch in the ground, and consulted with the large, hooded beast. After a few minutes of silence, he shouted up, "The Master of All is willing to give you three days to pack and leave, stay to serve him, or give him a half-score servants. If you give him the servants, he will leave you be for four seasons, then ask for another half-score. He will use a fortress to command your Abbey, and you will live in servitude, as indentured Lowerbeasts instead of Toilbeasts. The servants you give him will be released from the Toilbeast occupation and take up the title of indentured Lowerbeasts. Within three days, you must give you your choice."

Gonff was visibly purple from trying to contain a tirade of insults, Bella was slightly tense, and the Abbot was quiet, serene. But on the inside, she thought, she could feel that there was turmoil roiling around.

Rose heard the squirrel behind her growl suddenly, and she was aware of an impending danger. Just as she turned around, he gave a push and, unable to right herself, she fell over the battlements, falling to the ground, cushioned only by a thick mat of grass, where sudden darkness overcame her. She didn't scream.

* * *

_Boar snarled, his clenched paw itching to strangle the squirrel as he pushed her off. The traitorous, idiotic, stupid little fiend! The…the…_

_No words would accurately describe him. How the squirrel got up there undetected, he didn't know. He was focused on Rose, and the other creatures were focused on the vermin below. Martin was most likely pacing the walls on the ground, and the squirrel…the idiotic, head-strong, temperamental, want-to-crush-his-head __**squirrel**_…_ had found a way up and had abruptly seized his chance to get rid of this 'danger' to Redwall._

_Idiot._

_Barely containing his anger and trying to destroy the rock, now a swirling of opalescent colors, growled out, "Martin. Redwall Abbey."_

* * *

Martin paced back and forth, back and forth, listening to the conversation from the walls. Seething, he heard the proposition that the 'All-Knowing One' was giving. If that over-grown son of Hellgates was thinking he could destroy them, and press them into his service, he hadn't reckoned with Martin the Warrior, slayer of Tsarmina of the Thousand Eyes, being here.

Suddenly, he realized that that trouble-making squirrel wasn't there anymore. He was on the grounds just a little bit ago. Terror thudding in his heart, he began to make his way up to the battlements, when he heard Gonff's astonished cry, accompanied by a shout.

"Ye can take her, you slimy, slitherin' snails! She's bad enough to be with your kind!"

Upon hearing these words, Martin threw himself up the stairs, colliding with the temperamental squirrel. Immediately, he held him tight, never minding the scratching claws that flew against him in an effort to escape.

"Lemme go, lemme go!"

But the warrior was deaf to all pleas, descending the stairs where Columbine came running towards the commotion.

His Rose…gone…gone again…

He had made an oath to protect her at Marshank. He had failed.

And even when he had another chance, he had failed. He was a failure, a complete and utter failure. He couldn't protect her even in the walls of his home.

Dimly, he heard Columbing asking him, "What's wrong? What's wrong, Martin?"

Slowly, still holding the struggling squirrel in a vice-like grip, he spoke slowly and softly. "I'm a failure."

Columbine was joined by Durry, who carried a thin, long rope. The mole was silent, and tied the squirrel's struggling forepaws together. Martin let go of the squirrel, and, dazedly, walked into the orchard.

The words echoed in his head, a steady mantra as he walked, ignoring the worried questions and the confused pleading of Dibbuns as he shuffled into the grove.

* * *

_I'm a failure_.

_Boar groaned. That was all he needed; Martin being struck dumb because of Rose's fall. He sighed. "Gonff, Redwall Abbey."_

* * *

Gonff let out an astonished cry as Rose was pushed over, plummeting to the ground. He stared in shock as the mousemaid, resurrected, fell from the battlements. All because of a treacherous squirrel with a twisted mind.

His shock turned into anger as the weasel sent the silver ferret to retrieve the mousemaid. Swiftly, he ran down the battlements, jumping the last few steps in Mousethief style. He unbolted the Gates, and slammed out of the Abbey, sprinting to where the mousemaid was, but stopped short as one of the otters of the Abbey caught up with him and held him back.

"Leave it, matey. Rick gave her up to them; they named the agreements. They'll believe that she was given freely, and that you coming to take her back would be going against the rules of the parley."

Gonff strained, but the otter held him back. He feared that Martin would charge out of the gates at any minute, or be overcome by grief.

He quit struggling, and let his train of thought continue. Martin would be broken again by this, if Rose was dead. Killed again. It would tear him to bits…

And, of course, the warrior would blame himself for not being there with Rose to stop her fall. He would wallow in misery and mourning, saying that it was all his fault, and that he failed.

And was a failure.

Gonff was going to kill him.

* * *

_Boar grumbled a little. At least Gonff had come to his senses. He really should check on _Silence_._

_"_Silence_, Ouside of Redwall Abbey."_

* * *

The ferret gingerly picked her up, much to the distress of the mouse who had burst out of the Abbey. He put a paw right over the mousemaid's mouth, and was amazed to find there was still breath in the maid.

Softly, he crept towards the party, trying not to jar the mousemaid. She had a couple of broken ribs, it felt like, and there would be bruises all over her body. There was also another reason he didn't walk as he usually did.

She seemed to…glow.

There seemed to be this odd aura around her, light and bright. She also resembled the mousemaid who was an accomplice to the ferretmaid Goddess. This was…odd…

He finally reached the group, and took his place on the outside left, listening to the words of the weasel in front of him. Cymmatop, or in the Lowerbeast language, _Adder_. He knew the rules of the parley, and so was taken along.

"We thank you for your gift of the mousemaid so soon after our asking. We will take this mousemaid and not bother you for a week, when we expect our answer. But if the mousemaid is dead, we come back within three days. The parley is adjourned."

As one, they swiveled and marched back to the edge of the woods. _Silence_ crept, though, wanting not to hurt the Lowerbeast with the pretty voice and the face of that who helped _Peace_.

When they were a considerable distance into the forest, Cymmatop turned to _Silence_. "Is the Lowerbeast alright?"

On impulse, _Silence_ checked both her heart rate and her breathing. She was breathing, yes, but there was emptiness where her heartbeat should be…

Wait. There was a pulse. Strong, but uncommon. Once every minute, perhaps. That was odd.

Many odd things about this one.

"Sire, she breathes, but her heartbeat…is…well…it beats about once per minute." He was hesitant in his answer, but the Master suddenly intervened, feeling the pulse for a long time.

Perhaps five minutes passed, and the Master finally withdrew his paw. "It beat but four times. And the breath…" he put his paw above the mousemaid's mouth, "Is regular, but is oddly cold." He looked at _Silence_. "Put her in my tent, and get the healer. This one needs to live, for it is a strange one. And I believe," the Master glanced at the fox and rat, whom immediately stuffed moss in their ears and held their paws over them. "That this one has come back from the dead."

_Silence_ sucked in his breath, his eyes wide. The _dead_? From the Dark Forest, where, even though he was but a vermin, he wished to go when he died? Returning?

"Sire…why?" Cymmatop, practical as always, asked.

"Perhaps to tell the Lowerbeasts in the Sandstone Walls of our coming. Of the honor they could have to serve as my Toilbeasts, or Servantbeasts. Or perhaps the Great God_ Fate_ or _Hell_ sent her to serve me. Nevertheless, she is here now. Treat her with the utmost care. _Silence_, go."

Without a word, the silver ferret took the mousemaid away, the two other soldiers following, but the presence lingered, watching the Master and Cymmatop converse in low tones.

"Master, about _Silence_…"

"I know, he is odd. He is unique, for a special reason that none knows but myself."

"He seemed to be in awe of the mousemaid, and took care not to hurt her, even though she be a Lowerbeast."

"Does she remind you of somebeast?"

"No, sire. A pretty voice, and a nice face, but nobea…" He trailed off. "I suppose she looks familiar, Master."

"And who is she like?"

Cymmatop lowered his voice further. "She looks like that mousemaid, that Lowerbeast, depicted as being with the Goddess _Peace_."

The Master nodded. "From there, you can draw your own conclusions about _Silence_."

They both went off, unaware of the presence that sighed, and went away, and a pair of mortal eyes staring from the treetops.

Lady Amber shook her head, digesting what she had just heard, and bounded off, ready to relay the odd information about this Teralose figure.

* * *

_Boar yawned, and pondered what he just heard. The Master knew, Cymmatop knew, and now _Silence _knew. This was not his day._

_Rose _wasn't_ supposed to be pushed from the wall, Martin _wasn't _suppsosed to break down, _Silence_ wasn't supposed to be with the group going to parley with Redwall. Rose wasn't even _supposed_ to be on the Wall; that was supposed to be Martin!_

_Everything seemed to be going wrong. He didn't like this job, and he didn't think he could bear it if the Master won. He would've failed, and would be dismissed from the Council. He was supposed to make sure that things didn't go wrong._

_He cursed. _Fates_, he growled in his mind. Angrily, he shut the stone off and placed it in his pocket, exiting the room. Things were so much simpler when he could just be swinging his sword at searats._

* * *


End file.
